


Strange Ties, Family Bonds

by whittler_of_words



Category: Homestuck, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post Sgrub/Sburb, Gen, Humanstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whittler_of_words/pseuds/whittler_of_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you a human?” Dean asked simply.</p>
<p>Something passed over the kid’s face. Dean couldn’t quite tell what it was in the low light, but something about the way he squared his shoulders didn’t feel right. “That’s kind of personal,” the kid muttered. “I’m at a difficult time in my life.”</p>
<p>“What,” Dean said flatly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is subject to sporadic updates and rampant oocness of the supernatural fandom side. This isn't so much a serious fic as it is a break from my longer ones, so please keep that in mind c:

It was on the way back from a hunt - open and shut case, classic haunting, they had the last remnants of metacarpal bone on display in the little museum burned within ten minutes - driving on a long open road surrounded by a sea of grass on either side as far as the eye could see and hopefully leading to a good burger joint, that the small figure took form in the headlights, growing larger as the Impala crawled forward in the light drizzle. The two men dismissed it, since there were no reportings of missing people who travelled down this stretch of road with their cars found stalled in a ditch, thus making the possibility of this being a vengeful spirit trying to lure helpful people to their deaths close to nil.

When the person collapsed into the mud as they drove by, Sam leaned forward in his seat.

“Woah woah woah, hey, stop the car.” Dean did, because he is not completely heartless, God dammit, and immediately the younger brother unbuckled his seatbelt and slipped out the car door, jogging back down the road. Dean followed a bit more slowly. A little cautious paranoia never hurt anybody. 

...Well. Not much, anyway.

When he got close enough, Dean shined his flashlight - still in his jacket from the earlier job - onto the crumpled form. 

“He’s just a kid,” Sam said, and he was right. He couldn’t be more than sixteen, although he could be younger from how small he was. His clothes looked drenched; he must have been walking in the rain at least since it started an hour ago. “We should call an ambulance.”

“No service,” Dean grunted, already having pulled out his cellphone and shoving it back into his jean pockets. Sam hummed a grim, unsatisfied “Hmm.” “What are you thinkin’, Sammy?”

“Maybe we should-” Sam toppled backwards from where he’d been leaning over the kid as he suddenly jumped up onto his feet, his arms clenched into fists in front of him and his teeth bared in a snarl. The effect was ruined immediately when he hissed between his teeth in pain and hugged one of his arms to his chest, and Dean had his gun half pulled out before he could stop himself. He kept his hand on it, still, just in case.

“ _Fuck,”_ the kid said, loud enough to almost be a shout. Dean wished he had some better light; even with the flashlight, it was still too dark to make out much. “Where the fuck did _you_ come from?!”

“It’s okay,” Sam said from the ground, holding up one hand placatingly. “We were driving by and saw you fall. We just wanted to help.”

“Sure,” the kid said sarcastically, “Just like the last two groups of grubfuckers that said the exact same thing, I’m sure that this time you actually mean it and the second I let my guard down you _won’t_ be trying to kill me. Bring it on, shitstains.” The words immediately set Dean on edge, but even through the light haze of rain he could see that most of that was all talk. He was shaking visibly, either from the cold or exhaustion, and whatever was wrong with his arm obviously hurt. 

“Grub-?” Dean shook his head, baffled. “Listen squirt, if we had a choice we would be miles down the road sitting down to dinner, not standing out in the rain getting sassed by some punk with a mouth.” The kid bristled, but stayed silent. “Now, are you going to tell us what’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Well,” the kid seethes, sounding surprisingly lucid for someone who was just unconscious in the mud, “I wake up, in the middle of nowhere, looking like _this-_ ” he spits the word out like it’s a personal offense, “-and then a bunch of bulgelickers appear out of nowhere and start attacking me. I would have been fine,” he grumbles, “But one of them managed to land a hit.” He gestures to his arm. Dean and Sam exchange a glance, both of them wondering why someone, or a group of people, would be after this guy.

“I am sorry about that, by the way.” Dean whirls around at the sound of the voice, not even bothering to try and stop himself from pulling out his gun completely and pointing it in the voice’s direction. It doesn’t matter that he knows it’s pointless. “I told them not to hurt you, but they’re an unpredictable bunch, my lot. Hello, boys. And put that away, Dean, unless it makes you feel better about yourself; in which case, keep it out.” Crowley smiled at them, and Dean felt Sam move up behind him. Dean scowled and lowered the gun.

“What do you want, Crowley?” Sam asked. The kid behind them made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

“You _know_ this asshole?!” He all but screeched. 

“ _You_ know this asshole?” Dean only spared a second to look behind him before turning back to Crowley, whose arms were casually crossed over his chest.

“Of course I do, he’s been following me since I got here!”

“Is that true?” Dean asked, a growl in his voice. Crowley just shrugged. “What do you want with the kid, Crowley?”

“Well, it just wouldn’t do to let the child of Blood run around where anyone could get at him, would it?” Crowley said.

“Child of who?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing important,” Crowley said dismissively , and his smile widened into a smirk. He looked behind him and at the kid, seeming to consider something, and then clapped his hands together. “Now, I really must be going. Villages to plunder, innocents to kill, you know how it is. Ta-ta.”

“Crowley, you son of a-” But he was gone, only an empty space left where he’d been standing moments before. Dean turned around to look at the kid, who was looking back at them suspiciously. He didn’t seem very surprised over the disappearing act.

“What do you think we should do?” Sam whispered lowly.

“I’m thinking on it.” Dean mulled it over a second, considering his options, and then sighed. “We take ‘im. Crowley obviously wants him, and I don’t want to let him go until we figure out what for.” 

“Are we thinking human?”

“I don’t know. And something tells me he won’t be very open to getting tested.”

“Jesus Christ on a one wheeled cycling device, I can still hear you two!” The kid glared at them both, even as he swayed on his feet. “Getting tested for _what?_ ”

“Are you a human?” Dean asked simply. Sam nudged him sharply with an elbow. “What,” he whispered. “It’s the easiest way.”

Something passed over the kid’s face. Dean couldn’t quite tell what it was in the low light, but something about the way he squared his shoulders didn’t feel right. “That’s kind of personal,” the kid muttered. “I’m at a difficult time in my life.”

“What,” Dean said flatly. “Come on, it’s a yes or no question.”

“Fuck you!”

“Are you a demon?” Dean asked impatiently. The kid made a baffled noise and shook his head. “A shapeshifter?”

“No!”

“Here, just-” Sam walked back to the car and brought back a water bottle and a knife. The kid eyed them both warily. “I need to try something, but you’ll have to trust me.”

“Like fuck I will.”

“It’s either this, or we leave you out here in the rain until Crowley decides to try for you again,” Dean snaps. “Otherwise there’s no way I’m getting into an enclosed space with you at our backs.”

The kid grumbled for a few moments. “Fucking- _fine_. Go ahead, I don’t even care anymore.” He still leaned back a little when Sam approached, Dean trailing after in case the kid decided to try something, but the moment he realized what he was doing the kid gritted his teeth and stood his ground.

“Hold out a hand.” Sam uncapped the water bottle as he said this, and the kid warily complied, still hugging his other arm awkwardly to his chest. Sam proceeded to empty out the bottle of holy water onto the kid’s skin.

...Nothing. 

“That was completely pointless,” the kid said. “What the fuck even- ow!” He yanked his hand back as Sam nicked it quickly with the knife, shaking the appendage out and scowling as he sucked on the small cut. “What the fuck was that for?!”

“He’s clean for holy water and iron,” Sam said, which, shit, crossed out nearly half of Dean’s list.

Dean wiped a hand down his face. The kid swayed again.

Well. Looks like that burger will have to wait.

“If you get any blood on my seats,” Dean said, “I will skin you.”

The kid flipped him off.


	2. Chapter 2

A little prodding revealed the kid’s name to be Karkat Vantas, which was weird as hell. Dean elected to just keep calling him ‘kid’. Sam took notes.

“We’re here, kid,” Dean said, and the teenager jolted where he sat in the back seat. Probably fell asleep. “Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”

“Ugh,” Karkat groaned. “ _Ugh._ ”

Dean waited in the car with the kid while Sam went to check them into the hotel. Ah, the smell of hookers and illegal drugs. Home sweet home. The kid was practically nodding off in his seat when Sam came back with the keys in hand, but glared at Dean and exited the car before he could say anything again. Punk.

“I could only get us a two-bedder,” Sam said. Dean shrugged. Whatever. He and Sam could share, because he was _not_ sleeping on the floor.

Stepping into the room and flipping on the light, Dean saw something that made him double-take.

“Your eyes,” Dean said calmly, “are red.”

“Holy shit, they are?!” The kid yelped. He paused a moment, and then coughed into a fist. “I mean. Holy shit, they are. Imagine that. Thanks for stating the obvious, dunderfuck.”

“Riiight,” Dean said, one eyebrow raised. “I’m starving, so I’m going to grab some food. You think you can handle things here, Sammy?”

Sam huffed. “We’ll be fine. Just go.”

Dean ignored the kid’s grumbled “I can handle myself.” when he turned around and back to the Impala. He didn’t really like the idea of leaving Sam alone with a kid - definitely not human - they knew literally nothing about, but he wasn’t about to let Sam drive his baby, and he _definitely_ wasn’t about to go to sleep hungry.

When he got back with the take-out bags in hand, Dean walked inside to the sight of a shirtless Karkat sewing shut an ugly gash down his arm. Sam shrugged where he sat on the other bed.

“He insisted he do it himself.”

“You know how to do stuff like that?” Dean set down the bags onto the small table, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t think I had it in you, kid.”

The kid didn’t respond for a moment, instead cursing under his breath as he made another pass with the needle. ""Of course I know how, it’s not like anyone was going to do this shit for me,” finally came the reply. “I’m not some useless little wriggler - shit! - who can’t take care of himself, I know how to fight and - God fucking _shhhh_ \- treat my own wounds so that I don’t die from some stupid fuckin _gg_ \- infection.” Karkat tied and cut the last stitch. The work was neat in the way only someone with a lot of practice can manage, and it made Dean uneasy. Maybe because the kid looked so young, even though for all Dean knew he could be hundreds of years old.

Dean was distracted from that line of thought when the kid pointed a finger at the bags on the table. “What is that?”

“Food,” Dean said. “I didn’t know what you like so I just got you-”

“Oh motherfuck yes,” the kid said, and made a dash for the bags. Dean snatched them away before the kid could get to them, and before he could say anything, handed him his share of the burgers and fries. Or, tried to. The kid just stared at it for a second.

“What are you waiting for,” Dean prompted. “Take it.”

He did, albeit slowly, side-eyeing Dean distrustfully the entire time. Dean snorted and took out his share, tossing Sam the bag. Karkat hesitated until Dean sat down and took a bite out his own food, before saying,

“Okay, I have to ask. Is this poisoned or something?”

Sam looked at the kid quizzically. “No. Why would it be poisoned?”

“You’re just _giving_ me shit,” the kid said. “A place to stay, food, medical supplies. You don’t even know me. What do you even get out of this?”

“The satisfaction of seeing your smiling face,” Dean said. “Now shut up and eat.” 

Dean didn’t need to tell him twice.

God damn, that kid ate like he hadn’t seen food in a fucking week

And then, the second he was done, looked up and asked, “Are you guys going to cull me in my sleep? Because either way I’m about to pass out.”

“Only if you try to kill us in our sleep, first,” Dean joked. The kid nodded, obviously seeing this as an acceptable answer - _obviously_ \- before flopping backwards onto the bed.

“Sam,” Dean said after a moment, when it was obvious the kid was finally asleep. “Sammy, _we have a kid_.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dean-”

_“This is so domestic.”_

“I am going to kill Crowley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooc ooc ooc ooc hahaha


	3. Chapter 3

Dean was a light sleeper, obviously. So he woke up the second that the kid bolted up in his bed, gasping for air. Dean made no move to show that he’d woken up, keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even as he waited for the kid to calm his shit.

“Fuck,” the kid whispered, and Dean didn’t like the thready sound of his voice. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck. Shit.” It sounded like he didn’t need Dean to interfere, though, taking a few deep breaths until he managed to stop hyperventilating. Dean cracked open his eyes just a hair at the sound of feet hitting the floor, and tracked the kid as far as he could as Karkat stumbled his way to the bathroom before he shut the door. The sound of running water. Sink, probably. 

Dean sat up, stretching as he did so, and carded a hand through his hair.

He had a _kid_ now.

A kid Dean knew nothing about, who Crowley had apparently wanted before suddenly giving up (?), who was probably definitely _not_ human and was also a smartass with a mouth, sure, and he knew that the kid was going to have to fuck off to wherever, but.

This was Serious Business if he’d ever known it.

Dean turned to shake Sam awake, only to find that his brother’s eyes were already open. Sam was the one to raise an eyebrow at him this time.

“You okay?” Sam asked. Dean scoffed.

“I’m fine. Just thinking that you need to do your research mojo before the kid surprises us by, I don’t know, randomly exploding into flames.”

“That would be a phoenix,” Sam said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, “and trust me, we’d know if he was a phoenix.” The sink was still running. Dean wondered what was taking the kid so long. “I’m still curious about what Crowley said,” Sam continued. “What he meant by ‘child of Blood’.”

Dean shook his head. “And his name. ‘Karkat Vantas’? That’s definitely not something you hear every day.”

“If ever. I’ll look that up, too.”

The sound of the sink cut off suddenly, and Karkat opened the door. He was wearing that sweater again, Dean noted, except now that it was lighter out he could see the grey sideways sixty-nine on the front. It looked familiar, in a shit-I-should-know-this type of way, but Dean couldn’t quite place it. Whatever. He made a note to himself to ask Sam about it later. 

“Which of you assholes has a husktop?” the kid asked. Dean blinked.

“What the hell is a husktop?”

The kid heaved a sigh, rubbing at an eye. “Husktop. Laptop. Whatever you fucking call it, I don’t care.”

“What do you need it for?” Sam asked. The kid scowled.

“I’m going to burn it in an act of ritualistic sacrifice to the Mirthful Messiahs so that maybe a miracle will happen and it will turn out all of this has been some crazy dayterror-- I’m going to try to _find some people_ , dumbass!”

Sam reached under the bed, pulling out his laptop. He handed it to the kid carefully. “Try not to actually burn this or anything, please.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the kid muttered, taking the laptop under his arm and heading to the small table at the corner of the room. He started it up, scowling at it the whole while.

“If you keep making that face it’s going to get stuck like that,” Dean said. Predictably, the kid flipped him off. When Dean turned around, he stopped and stared.

“Is that...another computer?” Dean asked, eyeing the laptop in Sam’s lap with suspicion. Sam tsked.

“Always carry multiple computers, Dean. Always.”

“Freak.”

“Jerk.”

“Oh my God, would you two _shut up_.”

Dean was still finishing getting dressed, not ten minutes later, when he heard the exclaimed “Thank fucking God!”

Dean poked his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth. Karkat was hunched over the computer, typing furiously, an intense look of concentration on his face. There was a lot of mouse clicking, and then--

“Please tell me you can hear me or I will gouge my fucking eyes out in rage.”

_“Do it anyway, TZ will get a kick out of it.”_

Dean raised an eyebrow at the voice coming from the computer, exchanging a look with Sam. Neither of them said anything for the moment. Dean occupied himself with trying to identify the stranger’s accent; definitely southern. Dean was going to bet Texan.

“I never thought I’d live to say it, but am I fucking glad to hear from you, Strider.”

_“Right back at you, Vantas. Where the fuck even are you?”_

“Good question. Let me ask.” The kid turned to Dean and Sam. “Where the fuck am I?”

“Oklahoma,” Sam answered, and the boy -- Strider? -- made a surprised sound.

_“Wow, hi, didn’t know there was someone else there.”_

“Two someone elses, actually, Sollux would be fucking delighted. I... ran into some trouble and they helped me out.”

“Yeah, _trouble_ ,” Dean scoffed, leaning against the doorframe. Strider was silent for a moment.

_“Are you hurt?”_

“N...no.” 

_“Don’t fuck with me, Vantas, what happened.”_

“It’s fine, I stitched it up--!”

_“Cam, now, no objections. Objection privileges have been revoked because you’re a fucking asshole.”_

The kid shifted in his seat. “Dave, I don’t--”

_“Cam or I call Harley.”_

“...Fine.” Some more fiddling with the computer on Karkat’s end. He yanked down the shoulder of his sweater, showing the beginning of the stitches, and snarled, “Happy now?” Dean noticed he wasn’t looking at the computer.

There was a long moment of silence on Dave’s end.

_“Holy shit.”_

Karkat pulled the sweater back up. “Understatement of the fucking century.

_“You’re--”_

“Yes, I know!”

_“Do you know if the others...?”_

“I don’t know. You’re the first person from the group I’ve been able to talk to. Have you heard from anyone else?”

_“Yeah, apparently all of the others are at Jade’s island and they flipped their shit when they realized you weren’t with them. I guess Jade just failed to mention the itty bitty detail of-- y’know. The Alphas are here, along with our guardians. Both scratched versions, can you believe this bullshit?”_

“I can, in fact, believe this bullshit.”

_“Oh, hey, actual important shit you need to know about. We’re all wanting to be in one place, and since I have the biggest pad, Jade’s ‘porting everyone here. She was trying to find you earlier using her Space thingy but you were gone off of her radar, dude. Is there any way you can get over here, or we can pick you up? And shit, yeah, you’re only in Oklahoma. That’s like, a hop skip and a jump away from Houston.”_

“Houston?” Sam interrupted. “As in Houston, Texas?”

_“That would be the one.”_

“Hell, we’re taking a road trip anyway,” Dean said, shrugging. “We could probably make a detour.”

_“Damn, sweet--”_

_“Dave, are you talking to strangers on the internet again?”_

This voice was deeper, obviously older, the drawl emphasized. 

_“Aw Bro, c’mon, you’re embarrassing me in front of my friends.”_

_“I’m sure you can manage that all on your own, you little shit. ‘Sup?”_

“A lot of things,” Karkat answered in a deadpan. “My faith in humanity and everything it represents not being among them.”

_“Oh, nice. You the Vantas kid?”_

Karkat nodded, sitting a little straighter.

_“If you’re really planning on taking the trip down here, I need to talk with the adults in the room.”_

_“God damn, you were listening to that?”_

_“I listen to everything. I’m everywhere, Dave, there’s no escape. Hey, I’m not seeing any adults showing up on that screen.”_

Dean moved to the table where the computer was at, making sure to not be directly behind the kid as he removed the toothbrush from his mouth and wiped his chin with his hand. Sam followed close behind. Dean peered at the computer screen.

There were two people there, both similar enough to be related; one closer to Karkat’s age, blond and with round glasses, and one older but age indeterminable, with weird anime glasses. Dean could probably recognize them, if he drudged up the days of his childhood. 

“Howdy,” Dean said, and the younger blond scoffed, but the older one quirked his lips up a little. Sam elbowed him and shot him a look.

_“I’m leaving before things get embarrassing,”_ the younger one said, and then to the kid, _“you got another comp?”_

“Go ahead,” Sam said to Karkat before he could ask. Karkat went straight to the other computer still on the bed, and the other kid disappeared as well.

“Name’s Dean,” Dean said, and he nodded in his brother’s direction. “This is Sam.”

_“You can call me Mister Strider, because I’m a fucking gentleman,”_ the man said, and Dean huffed a laugh. He could already tell he was going to like this guy. Before Dean could say anything else, Strider continued, _“Are you two fucking?”_

“We’re brothers,” Sam said tiredly, at the same time Dean said _“Why does everyone always think we’re together?!”_

“You’re telling me you’re _not_?” Karkat called from the other side of the room, and you’d have to be deaf to not hear the disbelief in his voice. “Even a grub could see--”

“ _No_ ,” Dean said firmly, cutting him off. “Fucking hell.”

_“Cool,”_ Strider said, his lips pulled slightly at the corners. _“That means I don’t have to feel guilty when I ask for your numbers.”_

“I’ll take that to mean that you want an easier way to contact us while we’re on the road, instead of you hitting on both of us,” Sam said. “...At the same time.”

_“Aw, shucks,”_ Strider said, somehow managing to sound genuine while keeping his face perfectly flat. _“Way to turn a man down cold, why don’t you.”_

“Here.” Sam typed their cell numbers into the chat client, and Dean heard the ping through Strider’s mic as he received the message. “Those are our cells.”

_“Excellent. How long do you think it’ll take for you to get down here?”_

Dean looked at Sam. Shrugged. “The ride down there will take maybe eight, nine hours, tops. We can be there by tonight if we hustle it, tomorrow morning if we don’t.”

“By tonight, please, dear _God_ ,” Karkat muttered from the bed, not looking from where he was tapping away on the computer.

_“Think you can handle that?”_

Sam nodded. “Absolutely.”

_“Great. One last thing.”_ Strider’s easy-going smile fell flat and cold almost faster than Dean could blink. _“If that kid has anything bigger than a scratch on him by the time he gets to us, I will gut you with the shittiest sword I own.”_

And with that, Strider cut the connection. Dean raised an eyebrow.

Well.

Alright then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same   
> daen  
> dam and sean
> 
> time to play a game i call "how many ways can i mispell these names holy shit"


End file.
